


Give Me a Chance

by Steampunk_Hobbit



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: War for Cybertron
Genre: Adventure, Civil War, Discovery, Gen, Reunion, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-11-09
Packaged: 2018-02-05 03:41:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1803985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Hobbit/pseuds/Steampunk_Hobbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amilee Knight discovers something that her grandfather hid from her family when she accidentally falls through the basement floor and finds herself in the forgotten cellar. Her grandfather discovered a hidden gateway left behind by ancients of an robotic, alien civilization. And with her stupid curiosity, she accidentally lets herself get sucked into the civil war that now waged between two factions of those aliens. Strange, she thought they would be taller…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was fun to write, just because it was an idea that popped up in my head and seemed quite unique. I hope you enjoy!

            I suddenly found myself free-falling after a weak part of the wooden basement floor gave way under my feet. A scream left my mouth as I began to fall, but after that, I was silent as my throat closed up in my terror.

As soon as I started falling, I crashed to the floor, and the majority of my right side exploded in pain. I lay there, unable to move, half curled up in a fetal position, until the pain faded somewhat. When I could feel my right hip again, I slowly moved myself up into a sitting position.

Wincing, I berated myself about being more careful. My side was aching now in testament to that. I should have known that the floor would be weak in some places—true, most of the floor was made of concrete covered in carpet, but there was a narrow strip of hardwood floor that ran along the floor where there used to be a bar, and the floor was so old there (or maybe where one too many corrosive drinks had been accidentally spilled, I don’t know) that it had given out under my weight.

I eventually convinced myself to get to my feet, and stiffly, with many grunts and groans, I made it to my feet. I glance around, and the first thing that came to my mind was, _There’s another basement…under the basement?_ The only source of light in this new area came from the hole I had made in the wood that was now above my head, so I was unable to see very much of what was around me. I bit my bottom lip. I wasn’t very fond of the dark.

Feeling around in my jean pockets, the only thing I could find that would give me some sort of lighting was my cell phone. I switched it on, and used the light from the screen to see my surroundings. Starting with scanning the walls, I looked for a light switch or something. There were no switches to be seen on the walls, but I did find a kerosene lamp or something like that was sitting in the corner, so I went over to it and picked it up by its long, but thin, handle that looped up like a large upper-case U over it. After shaking it lightly in order to see if it still had some fuel in it, which it did, thank goodness, I fiddled with it until I figured out how to switch it on. I smiled at the small flame it made. It was quite chilly down here, and there was a possibility that I might be down here a long time before I found my way out, so I needed light and the little warmth it provided.

Switching my phone off in order to conserve power, I put it back in my pocket and used the light from the lamp in order to get a better look at my surroundings.

I was in what looked to be a cellar. The house me and my family lived in was old, and I had wondered if the house had a cellar or not, because it should have had one—and now I guess I found it. I looked at the walls, which were lined with empty shelves, and stopped when I caught sight of a very out-of-place looking desk. There was a candle-stick sitting there with an old-looking half-used candle standing in it, along with a small stack of papers and a small box with a lock on it. I didn’t bother to light the candle and instead set the lantern down on the desk as I went to investigate the papers. I was always a curious one when it came to a mysterious stack of papers when they’re left unattended.

Brushing the dust from the surface of the top page (blowing the dust off would just make it hard to breathe); I took in the four simple words written out in bold ink.

 

**_In A Robotic World…_ **

 

I stared at the three periods that followed after the words in contemplation. At the bottom of the page, there was a name written in normal, type-writer, font: Wayne Denny.

“Oh, cool!” I exclaimed, a smile appearing on my face. “Grandpa wrote a novel?” I carefully flipped to the next page, in hopes of not damaging the paper in any way, and took in the first page of the first chapter of the book he had written. It was typed out all neatly, and I could feel my excitement growing as I began to read.

' _A year or so ago, after I finished building the house I had been dreaming about since I married my wife, I remembered the strange hole in the side of the hill that now rests up against the side of our cellar. It was a strange hole because a soft breeze wafted out of it—a fresh-smelling breeze that felt slightly cold and seemed to draw me to the opening. The hole was about seven feet tall and four feet wide, just big enough for me to walk inside comfortably.’_

A hole? Alright, that was slightly out of the ordinary for something at the beginning of a good book. I had a vague ‘Alice-fell-down-the-rabbit-hole’ feeling coming from this story already, and I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. I did like stories where the main character was whisked off to another land where they help the people there in some way or another in order to stop the bad guy. And I didn’t mind that this story started out hinting that the person telling the story was going to walk into that hole and pop out the other side in another time or place.

And this was written by my grandfather, who flew planes for the air force and almost became an athlete on the Olympic team because he was so good at track sports. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he became a very good writer as well.

I wondered that, if this story turned out to be really good—good enough to draw me in and make me feel the suspense and whatnot—it would make it with a publisher and become a novel that would sit on store shelves were it would be noticed and then bought. I could almost see it sitting on a shelf in Chapters or Barns and Noble.

' _I built the house over the strange little hole because, for a few moments, I experienced a strange feeling that told me it was paramount that the hole be covered and hidden from the eyes of strangers. I don’t know why I did it, but I built the cellar around the hole and then gathered my friends to help me build the rest of the house. When the house was done and my wife and I had moved in, I promptly forgot about that little hole and went on with my life. But then I remembered it a few months ago when I remembered the cellar that I had built per my wife’s request. She loved to preserve and can the food she grew in the garden, so it was only logical that I create a cold area for it.’_

So he said that the hole was in the side of a hill and he built the cellar around it to hide it from prying eyes. That wouldn’t make the cellar very useful then, because it was above ground where the heat could get to it (and in the case of a tornado, since cellars are sometimes used as tornado shelters, there wouldn’t be much protection). Did he pile dirt, then, around the cellar, and make it look like the house sat on a hill?

Maybe Grandpa based the house in his story on the house he actually built himself back in the 1970s after he returned from Europe? It seemed feasible…

The editor-part of my brain was just going for it, checking the logic in what Grandpa wrote down and what happened in the story. Hiding the hole seemed logical, because I wouldn’t want anyone finding or seeing what I found until _I_ checked it out for myself—just in case there was something neat there. But what if the hole was a double-ended tunnel? For all he knew, the protagonist could have built his house over some kind of government project or something similar! But that was unlikely, since he owned the land, so he had the write to build his house anywhere he pleased.

' _When I remembered the hole, I went down to the cellar while I was on leave and my wife was working at the local hospital as a nurse. I took a flashlight and turned it on as soon as I was down there, since the electrical for the lights often didn’t work down there. It was a problem with the moisture._

 _'I went over to the hole, which I had covered up with an old, falling apart wardrobe, and opened its doors. I removed the false back and set it off to the side before I shone the light from my flashlight into the hole. The light went into it, but I saw no end. So it was a tunnel, then? Where did it go?_ ’

Where did it go, indeed? I wondered. Grandpa had done very well up to this point in the story, even though I was only a page or so in. But the way he wrote it kind of reminded me of the way C.S. Lewis or J.R.R Tolkien wrote their stories, which I mentally applauded my grandfather for, since Lewis and Tolkien were two of my favourite authors.

The feeling of my hair being moved by an invisible force caused me to stop and look up from where I was now sitting at the desk. The flame in the lantern didn’t move, but the paper under my hands rustled slightly. I set the paperweights, which I had taken off when I began to read, down on the stack of papers again before I stood up and picked up the lantern. Pausing to check the time on my phone, I saw it was only 2:35—I had enough time to check this strange breeze out before Mom got suspicious of my whereabouts.

Walking out from behind the desk, I began a slow, diligent search of the cellar. The cellar wasn’t huge, but there were many nooks and crannies that had to be carefully examined for the source of the draft. When I felt it again, I went and searched in the direction I thought the breeze had come from. Walking straight, I eventually came to a wall lined with more shelves. There was a gap on the wall where there were no shelves, and instead, there was an old wardrobe that was starting to fall apart.

 _An old wardrobe? Like in Grandpa’s story?_ I asked myself. Hanging the lantern on the crook of my elbow, I reached up and opened the wardrobe doors. There was a keyhole under one of the knobs, but the doors swung open easily, showing that they had never been locked.

I stood there with the doors open, suspicion niggling at the back of my mind. “What are the chances of me falling through the floor and finding this place?” I whispered to myself. “I read a novel written by my grandfather, and find a wardrobe covering up a hole in the wall just like he described in his story…” Grandpa must have just found this hole, and it spawned that story idea. I began to wonder if he ever got to finish that story before he disappeared when Mom was sixteen.

But before I could go back and continue reading, I had to see where the draft was coming from. So I stepped through the wardrobe and passed into the hole. I held up the lantern in order to cast more light in front of me. The farther I walked, the deeper the hole seemed and the more it seemed like a tunnel rather than a hole like in the story. _Hmm…I haven’t read along far enough to get to the part that tells me it’s a tunnel, I guess._ My pace was consistent, but the tunnel seemed to stretch on forever. Was I going to come to an end eventually?

When at least ten to fifteen minutes had passed, I saw a light at the end of the tunnel. Literally. I rushed forward, the light helping to illuminate the way so I could see where I could place my feet without the risk of tripping while I nearly ran.

Abruptly, I came to the end. I stood in the mouth of the tunnel and looked out into an alien cavern. The cavern was unlike anything I had ever seen in any book about spelunking or caves I had read in my life. The floor was made of dirt and rock, yes, but the walls and ceilings were made of pure metal that twisted and turned as it went up. All around the room there were either weird round glass lights that pulsed a strange violet or white colour or normal candles that looked to have been melted in place haphazardly around the cavern. The cavern wasn’t huge, it was probably the same size as the cellar back under my house, but the metal walls made it seem bigger than it already was.

There was another desk in the cave, but this time, it had an ordinary-looking lamp instead of a candle on it. There was another locked box on it as well, but a notebook sat where the manuscript had been on the other desk. I went and stood across the desk from the desk chair that sat behind it, and picked up the notebook. I flipped it open and took in the schematics and such that had been scrawled across the lined pages. I flipped to a page that had writing on it, glad at least I could read that and hope I would understand what was being said.

_'Beyond this metal cave, there is a world beyond your imagination filled with a race of robots that can think and act just like humans. I have managed to build a suit that allows me to blend in with those whom inhabit this new world. I made an extra just in case something were to happen to me and someone came along and decided to go looking for me. It is paramount that they don’t find out that we are human, for we are as alien to them as they are to us.’_

I put the book down and glanced about the cave. Then I checked my phone again. It was now 3:10 in the afternoon and there was a chance Mom was going to start worrying about me. I wanted to stay and explore, but there was no time now, and I wanted to have a chance to read the rest of the manuscript. I had a feeling that it had answers pertaining to what was going on here. Up to now, whatever had been mentioned in that manuscript was true, and apparently, the hole led to a cavern in another world.

With a sigh, I turned and went back into the cavern with the lamp. And halfway back to the cellar, the kerosene in the lantern ran out and the flame was snuffed, leaving me in the dark. “Crap.”


	2. A Sudden Urge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update. It wasn't because of writers block, but because I've been really busy. Indeed, a lot of things crowded my time. 1) I had an accounting course that dragged on through summer. I didn't finish it until the end of October. 2) My main fanfiction account is on fanfiction.net, and I have a few stories on there that are all being worked on. 3) I'm an extremely bad procrastinator, lol.
> 
> But I love this story and I'm never going to give it up. I hope the long chapter satisfies you.
> 
> And as a note, Amilee, the main character, is a very shy person, but she is willing to push it aside in order to do things she believes are right. And she has this thing where, if someone can't see her identity, she's a little braver than normal. I just wanted to say that in case any questions pop up while you're reading :D

I managed to make it back to the cellar; it just took longer since I couldn’t see in order to check that I wasn’t going to trip over something. But I made it back.

It took a bit longer to find out how to get _out_ of the cellar, but I managed to find a steep narrow staircase that was hidden behind a bookcase in the family room in the basement. It took a lot of pushing in order to get the door to open wide enough to squeeze out. Once I was out, I took a deep breath of relief before I closed the door. I left the bookshelf sitting out away from the wall so that I would be able to go back without killing myself while moving the bookshelf.

That night, since I brought the manuscript up with me, I read it. I stayed up quite late, possibly up into the wee hours of the morning. I didn’t pay attention to the time. It was only when my eyes began to close by themselves was when I called it a night.

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of chirping birds and my mother’s voice as she shouted up from the kitchen, which was situated on the floor below and was right under my room.

My head felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls, and it was hard to think. It took a couple tries to keep my eyes from closing unwillingly, and when I knew I was going to stay awake, I sat up and slowly climbed out of bed. I stumbled across my room to my door and wobbled out into the hall before I made it down the stairs slowly, making sure I didn’t slip and kill myself falling down the stairs. I came to a stop in the kitchen and made my presence known with a quiet “Morning, Mom,” and a yawn.

“Good morning, Amilee,” she said irritably as she continued to cut the carrots we were probably going to be eating with supper, slamming the knife in her hand down on the carrot she was currently cutting like she was trying to murder it. “Care to tell me about the hole in the floor down in the basement?”

I blinked. I had totally forgotten about the hole in the bar floor down there. I guess I was so wrapped up in the fact that I had found out that my grandfather had written a book and had a secret lair under the basement— _and_ the fact that he had stumbled upon another world like someone stumbled upon Narnia was _really_ thought-consuming.

“Were you going to tell me that you fell through the floor yesterday?” she demanded impatiently. I saw her glare at me over my shoulder.

I felt myself blanche. “Uh—uh. I honestly f-forgot about that,” I replied. It sounded lame, but it was the truth. Too bad Mom wouldn’t believe me.

She slammed the knife down on the counter, and her entire being suddenly seemed to vibrate in anger. A minute or so seemed to pass before she let out a loud, heated, sigh. “That’s a poor excuse, daughter,” she said in a strained flat-tone.

I wasn’t going to argue. When I tried to prove my point with her, I ended up sounding like I was whining and I never got my point across. “I’m sorry, I just got distracted. I was meaning to tell you about it, but I was tired. Anyway, I don’t want the day to start out like this,” it was so hard to hold back the venom that wanted to leak into my voice. She was going to drag this on, I knew it. I always had a feeling she did it to make it feel like she came out on top, when we argued. Though, logically I figured that it was because she was worried about so much. Maybe she was worried that the airhead of a brother that I had was not going to pay attention and was somehow going to wander behind the bar and fall down the hole.

“I’m going to go get the baby-gate and barricade the hole off,” I said neutrally. “Good morning, _mother_ ,” I hissed under my breath after I turned around. I grabbed a muffin as I stalked from the kitchen.

I marched down to the basement and strode over to the storage room situated off in a corner. I threw open the thin door and flipped on the light switch before I looked around for the baby gate. I eventually found the plastic contraption and grabbed it, turning and exiting the storage room with a huff. Before I closed the door behind me, I grabbed a flashlight from its charger near the light switch.

Setting up the baby gate only took a couple of minutes, and I only did it in hopes it would ease my mother’s mind a little. It wasn’t going to do much but deter my brother before he wandered behind the bar while in deep thought. I stepped back from the gate before I cleared my mind of any angry thoughts about how Mom had started the day. I was going to check out that cave and see how much Grandpa had discovered, and I was going with a longer-lasting light source.

Slipping behind the bookcase, I jogged down the short staircase until I was standing in the cellar. Switching on the flashlight, I shone its light around until I spotted the old wardrobe. According to what I had read the night before, Grandpa looked the metal cave on the other end of the tunnel over until he deduced that the cave belonged to something totally and completely alien to humanity. As I opened the wardrobe door and slipped inside, I thought about how he had described the glowing lights that were a part of the walls. It was strange how he described the lights as being blue in colour when he first saw them, and how, now when I saw them, they were mostly an eerie purple colour. What would have caused the colour of the lighting to change so drastically? Were they some form of mood lighting that Grandpa had somehow managed to manipulate?

The flashlight provided a brighter light than the kerosene lamp I had used the day before, so I walked faster this time. It took me only nine to ten minutes to reach the metal cave this time, and once inside, the cave’s own lighting was bright enough to allow me to switch off the flashlight. Gazing about, I saw that the cave had not changed much during the sixteen or so hours I had been gone. Which was good, since it meant that nobody but me had been here since Grandpa…disappeared.

With a hum of satisfaction, I decided to give the lights in the walls a closer look. I glanced at the candles scattered about, but didn’t bother on trying to light them. It was light enough to allow me to see where I was going. Gazing at a particular vein of light, I watched as it seemed to pulse between two shades of purple. It was almost hypnotic. I wondered if there was a kind of glass separating the light from the rest of the world, so I held my hand out to it slightly and lightly touched it.

Bad idea. As soon as I touched it, I deduced that it indeed felt like it was encased in a glass somehow, but by touching it, a wave of nausea rippled through me and forced me to yank my hand away. I turned away from it, and, for several seconds, I fought to keep from gagging and losing the muffin I had for breakfast.

 _What the heck is that?!_ I demanded silently. How could mere light make me feel so sick?

After I managed to calm my stomach down, I made up my mind that I was never, _ever_ , going to touch a purple light like that again.

Turning my gaze away from the light, I remembered that I had forgotten to get dressed this morning, meaning that I was standing in this strange place wearing nothing but a t-shirt, a hoodie, pajama pants, and a pair of my fuzzy blue slippers. I _was_ preoccupied and it _had_ been really chilly this morning (the thermometer outside my window had read -30 degrees Celsius), so it must have slipped my mind. It wasn’t like I changed out of my pajama bottoms regularly if I didn’t have to go into town, anyway.

Being underdressed didn’t really faze me, but the sudden metallic clinking emanating from the ceiling above did. The sounds of old machinery coming to life froze me in my tracks. I watched the ceiling more than ten feet above me as the grinding, clinking, and other machine-like noises got louder. Finally a couple plates making up the smooth ceiling slid apart and what looked to be a futuristic security camera dropped down and focused on me. It looked like a camera, but also looked like a wide screen (about as wide as my shoulders) at the same time. The screen was a light red in colour, with a stretched polygon-shape in the center. I stared at it in fascination, the science-fiction lover in me slowly coming awake from where I stuffed it at the back of my mind when I was focused on high school.

I stiffened in fear, though, when it ran a thin band of light over me, as if it was scanning me. What was it going to do? Was it going to figure out what I was and then haul me off to some unknown place for some unknown reason? Or was it going to try to eradicate me as soon as the scan was over?

I held my breath when it finished the scan. Nothing happened for several seconds before a deep, guttural, robot-like voice suddenly said, _“Species identified. Human. Facial and genetic traits show similarities to Human: Wayne Denny. No breach of security has been detected.”_

It fell silent and I gaped.

It knew who Grandpa was? And it knew I was related to him? Despite the scare I just had, excitement welled up inside me. I had never gotten the chance to meet Grandpa because he disappeared years before I was born. Mom would love to know where he went!

Licking my lips nervously, I willed myself to speak. “W-where is Human: Wayne Denny now?”

 _"Exact location: unknown. Wayne Denny has not returned to this cavern for approximately 28.4 stellar cycles,”_ the voice said.

“I-is he still a…alive?”

" _Wayne Denny is currently still functioning and online.”_

I took a deep breath, wondering what the response to my next question would be. Would I eventually irritate the voice and cause it to stop talking to me?

“Would I be able to reach him if I was to go and search for him?” I asked.

 _“Locating Wayne Denny is impossible.”_ There was a short pause. _“A civil war wages on the surface of Cybertron between two opposing factions. Most of the planet’s surface has been ravaged and exists as a desolate wasteland. Before the war, humans could exist on the surface without the use of life support equipment. Now, that is impossible.”_

All thought processes screeched to a halt. Wait, so it was true—I was not just in another world (like Narnia, which just existed on another plain of existence), but I was on a completely different _planet_?! And there was a war raging on it? Grandpa was out there, in all of that?

Grandpa fought in the Cold War, doing mostly surveillance from a plane. I would have no doubt that he would try to help in some way. But the main question was: what did each side stand for? Which side was Grandpa on if he was fighting in the war? Was he even fighting? He had to have been in his seventies by now.

“If it’s so dangerous for humans now, why is Wayne Denny out there?” I asked. I remembered something about a Cybertron in the manuscript, but I think I stopped reading not that long after I read about it.

In response, a clear glass cylinder was lowered out of the ceiling. Once it was resting on the ground, I was given a glimpse of what it contained. Inside, there was what looked to be a metal suit. It was a simple white in colour, and the helmet sported an opaque visor on it.

“Wayne Denny mentioned an extra suit in some of his writings,” I said, not taking my eyes off of the suit standing in the middle of the glass case. “Is this it?”

  _"Correct.”_

“Would…would I be able to put this suit on and use it to go after him?”

_“Correct.”_

I bit my bottom lip. The suit looked like it was built for a man, and was several inches too tall for me. I wouldn’t fit me properly. “It’s…too big…” I pointed out slowly.

Immediately, the voice responded. _“Wayne Denny expected that a male of your species would be the one to look for him. He made it able to be adjusted if necessary.”_

“Okay.” My heart began to flutter in nervousness at what could be waiting for me out wherever Grandpa was. But suddenly I felt that it was really important that I went and found him. I wanted to know what he was like, personally. Mom’s stories were not enough. And maybe if Grandpa was home, Mom would be able to relax like she did when Dad was home from work. Yes, I had to do this.

For my family. For my mom.

I looked up at the screen seriously, taking deep breaths in order to calm my thundering heart. “Wayne Denny means a lot to my family. Wayne Denny disappeared when my mother was only sixteen…” I thought back to the time unit the machine had used to measure years. “…stellar-cycles old. My mother was devastated. I want to go out there and find him for her. She deserves to have her daddy back.”

Inside I was quaking in my boots, but for too long I had been held back by my fears and insecurities. I could do this all on my own, and nothing was going to hold me back because I wouldn’t let it. Grandpa was family. He probably missed Grandma and Mom so bad.

“Alright. Help me put it on,” I told the voice.

 [~]

Almost an hour later, the machine had adjusted the suit to fit me perfectly. From what I could see of myself, if someone was to look at me without knowing I was human under all this metal, they’d think I was some sort of robot. The light that had been shining down inside of the tube the suit had been in had shut off as soon as the voice had taken it out. I walked stiffly over to the tube and saw that I could faintly see my reflection in the glass. The visor on my helmet was about as big as my face, and was tinted an opaque magenta, and it was glowing softly.

The chest area had been adjusted to allow for my womanly…chest…and so I could breathe without feeling like I was suffocating. The boots from my knees down had boosted me up a couple of inches so I was more at 5’ 11” than at my normal 5’ 7”. The boots were also chunky, but the voice explained to me that it was because there were pistons and cables in it that would help me to walk in this suit. What was really neat was that those pistons and cables were located all over the suit, and granted me a little super-strength. The voice said the super-strength was necessary in order to survive out there.

I held up my hands and flexed my fingers, feeling how fluidly they moved. I still felt stiff within this suit because it was heavier than I was used to wearing and it would take time to get used to. But I was ready to go. I was ready to face whatever was in the world, and I felt I had the necessary patience in order to search _everywhere_ for my grandfather. My heart thumped in my chest as a sense of purpose seemed to spread through me.

Most people I knew in my world looked at me as if I did nothing. But they never saw how hard I worked in order to get my school done, and they never saw how hard I tried to fulfill my dream of becoming a writer. They only saw me as an overweight girl that never went out and did anything.

Well, I was going to prove them wrong. They may never know it, but they’ll know I did something when my grandfather suddenly turns up after being gone for over two decades.

“Where is the door?” I asked politely.

Instead of anything being said, lights on the floor lit up and made a line towards a door several paces ahead. Lights lit up around the door, allowing me to see it.

I smiled. “Thank you,” I said before I marched up to the door.

My arms and thighs tingled in anticipation at what I might see on the other side of the door. Was it like Grandpa described in his story? Or had the civil war the voice had spoken of wipe it all away? Was there any type of radiation that could harm me in some way, even while I was wearing this suit? The voice might not know enough about humans in order to even consider it.

But…it said that Grandpa was out there and well, and Grandpa made the suit that I was now wearing, so it must be okay.

I turned to look back at the screen that still hung out of the ceiling. “Thank you so much,” I told it. “Thank you for telling me that my long-lost family member is still alive.” And with that, I turned back to the door and opened it.

Or tried to, at least. The door was rusty with years of unuse, so I had to use my suit-super-strength in order to pry the sliding door open just long enough so I could slip through. As soon as I had cleared it, it slammed closed behind me.

The noise the door made as it slammed shut echoed about, drawing me to take in my new surroundings.

I was now standing in a cavernous hallway. The walls were golden in colour, but looked to be quickly turning a coppery-colour as they began to rust. The walls were covered in all sorts of pictures carved right out of the metal. Most of them were of knights and what appeared to be robotic people doing different things, and they were larger than life. The door I had just come through had a picture carved on it too, but it was of a solemn-faced knight staring out at nothing. It held its sword upside down by the hilt, which looked to be pressed to his chest. I had to bite my lower lip as I took it in, as it stirred feelings of sorrow deep within my heart. It was almost like the night was guarding a tomb…

Unwillingly, a tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek. Curse my big heart. I was crying over something I just theorised and had yet to prove. My stomach turned sharply at the thought that I could have been just in someone’s _tomb_. And with that thought, I turned from the door and began to walk down the hall. I had no idea where I was going, but it wouldn’t hurt to wander about to see if I could find an entrance.

As I went, I passed more doors like the one I had come out of, each complete with their own knight carved upon it. At glance, I noticed that each night possessed a slightly different face, and it helped me come to the conclusion that this place couldn’t be anything other than a tomb. I found my heart going out to those who died and now lay here, however long ago they lived.

This place seeped an ancient aura that made me shiver slightly. How old was this place? How long had it been left uninhabited and empty? Why did its former inhabitants have to leave?

The farther I went the more questions piled up. But the main one was: _How big is this place?_ I was pretty sure that, from the moment I stepped out of the cave-place where I talked to that voice and found one of Grandpa’s desks, that I had been walking for at least an hour. Maybe an hour and forty minutes. This place was depressing, I wanted to get out; but the way my heart was dancing uncomfortably in my chest reminded me of the dangers that could possibly be lurking out there, or possibly…in here, in the same building, with me.

I shuddered again. I knew I was in way over my head now, but there was no turning back.

After turning a few more bends, I suddenly heard the sound of voices. I stopped and pressed myself to the wall before inching towards the nearest corner, where I was sure the voices were coming from.

And that’s when the voice from Grandpa’s ‘cavern’ suddenly sounded in my ear. It took almost all my will to keep me from screeching like some sort of wild cat in surprise.

 _“Update: Wayne Denny is sided with the faction identified as the Autobots. General identification of the Autobots are: blue optics, and this insignia,”_ the voice said. On the inside of the visor, the image of a squarish-blocky face, coloured red, appeared. _“Finding the Autobots is the best course of action. Avoid Decepticons at all costs.”_ The voice didn’t provide any help on how to identify these “Decepticons”, and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.

“How can I identify the Decepticons?” I whispered, hoping the voice would hear me.

 _“General identification of Decepticons are: red optics, and this insignia,”_ the voice provided, bringing up another image on the visor. This time, there was a purple, angular face that reminded me of some sort of bird-of-prey or angry knight. _“Avoid Decepticons at all costs,”_ the voice advised again.

I nodded once. “Okay. Optics must be…eyes?” I could remember something about that from Biology. “Heh, red eyes equals bad guys cliché. Funny.”

Slowly, I lightly began to inch closer to the corner, and voices coming from it grew louder as I did so. Carefully, I peeked around the corner and looked down in the direction of the voices. I spotted what appeared to be a red-eyed robot scanning about as it moved slowly in a room just down the hall I was now staring down. It seemed to be looking for something, but I couldn’t see what he could possibly be looking for. Until I caught a flash of blue light.

On the far side of the room, another robot peeked out from a gap in the debris laying there. The robot surveying the room must have seen it too, because he whirled on the hiding robot and charged at him. My heart leapt to my throat. The hiding robot had what looked to be a pair of glowing blue shades on, and the robot rushing him had red eyes. The voice said blue was good and red was bad.

Courage rushed through me at that moment. I needed to get to that blue…er…sunglasses-wearing robot in order to get to the Autobots. I couldn’t let him get hurt—or worse— _killed_.

So, without really thinking, I stepped out from behind my cover and stepped after the bad robot. I walked as quick as I could on light feet, holding my breath in hopes that my new metal boots didn’t clang too much against the ground.

The bad robot stopped in front of the gap in the debris and jeered something at the good robot in a robotic language I didn’t understand. As I got closer, I could see the robot struggling. It looked like his foot was stuck.

I was now close enough to hear clicking from the bad robot’s systems. It was now or never. My mission might just fail if I let something happened to the good robot. I quickly gazed about for some sort of weapon and spotted a long, sturdy pole that would fit in the palms of my now-gloved hands. I picked it up as quietly as I could and balanced it in both of my hands.

Taking careful aim, I swung it at the back of the bad robot’s head.


End file.
